Man Of Steel, Shield Of Ice

The wind bit at Clark's skin as he stood on the edge of the camp, his gaze fixed on the distant Wall. He had done what he could to bring the Free Folk south, to the Gift, where they could begin to rebuild in relative safety. The Watch had agreed, but only under strict conditions—conditions that Mance Rayder had reluctantly accepted. Clark knew that the alliance between the Free Folk and the Watch was fragile, built on necessity rather than trust.

The Free Folk were not the only ones who needed to adjust. Clark had made it clear to Mormont that he would help the Watch, too. The White Walkers were a threat to everyone, and no one could afford to ignore that. The Watch, for all their suspicion of the Free Folk, was in the same boat, and Clark's powers would be a valuable asset in the fight to come.

Clark was already helping where he could—transporting supplies, repairing fortifications, and scouting the land ahead of the group—but the Free Folk's distrust was not easily overcome. Still, they had agreed to follow him south. That, at least, was a start.

The first few days were tense. The Free Folk moved cautiously through the Gift, unsure of the Watch's presence, while the Watch kept a wary eye on the newcomers. There were muttered complaints and the occasional sharp glance, but nothing open or violent—yet. The Gift was wide and wild, perfect for the Free Folk to settle in for now, but it wasn't a home. Not yet.

Clark spent time with both sides, helping where he could. He worked alongside the Watch to reinforce the Watch's fortifications, lifting logs and stones with ease, making the Watch's men eye him warily but also with some measure of respect. They knew of his strength, but they didn't fully understand it. They wouldn't, not until it became necessary.

He didn't just focus on the Free Folk. Clark helped the Watch prepare for any attacks, scouting the area ahead of them, patrolling the perimeter, and offering suggestions on defense strategies. As he worked alongside them, the Watch began to see his value—not as an outsider, but as someone who could be trusted. His actions spoke louder than words, and slowly, the Watch's distrust began to ease, though it would take time.

In the evenings, Clark would sit by the fire with Tormund and Ygritte, discussing the future, their eyes always darting back to the looming Wall. It was a constant reminder that the real fight was ahead. They still had a long road to travel—politically, physically, and emotionally. The Free Folk had accepted the Watch's presence for now, but no one knew how long that would last.

Tormund, ever the optimist, had faith that the Free Folk would settle in and grow to appreciate the Watch's help. Ygritte, however, was more skeptical, her fiery temper barely contained beneath the surface. She had her doubts about the Watch's willingness to live and let live, but for now, she respected Clark's leadership.

The next few days were filled with hard work, tension, and tentative steps toward cooperation. Clark couldn't fix everything in a day, but he was doing his best to bridge the gap between the Free Folk and the Watch. He could feel the weight of the responsibility on his shoulders. He wasn't a leader by choice, but he knew he had to be one now. The survival of both the Free Folk and the Watch depended on it.

Clark would walk among the Free Folk in the morning, helping them settle, and then spend the evenings with the Watch, ensuring that their preparations were up to snuff. He watched as Mance Rayder and the Watch's leaders met, their conversations tense but civil, each side carefully navigating the delicate dance of coexistence.

As the days wore on, the work began to show results. The Free Folk built their shelters, while the Watch reinforced the defensive perimeter. They began to work together, albeit begrudgingly. The cooperation was slow, but it was progress. Clark could see that, and he couldn't help but feel a small sense of hope.

There was still much to do. Both sides needed to adjust to the reality of their new situation, and the Watch needed to learn to trust the Free Folk. But Clark's presence, his willingness to help both sides, made it possible for the fragile truce to hold—for now.

As the sun set on the horizon, Clark stood atop a small hill overlooking the camp. The Gift was vast, its rugged beauty stark against the backdrop of winter. But Clark knew that even in such a place, the weight of the coming war was inevitable. The White Walkers were out there, and they were growing stronger with each passing day.

The Free Folk and the Night's Watch were still uneasy allies, but Clark would continue to do whatever it took to hold them together. He knew the future depended on it. For now, it was enough that they were working together. The rest would come in time.

As the cold wind howled around him, Clark clenched his fists. He would stand between the Watch and the Free Folk, between the living and the dead. He would be the one to ensure that they all survived.

But even he couldn't do it alone.

And so, he would keep pushing. For the Gift, for the Watch, for the Free Folk—for all their futures.